


And What if I Just Fall

by IThinkTherforeIExist



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A Week of Kagehina, Angst, Artist Hinata, College Kageyama, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IThinkTherforeIExist/pseuds/IThinkTherforeIExist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.”<br/>-It's Kind of a Funny Story</p>
            </blockquote>





	And What if I Just Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so just to clear something up I do not think people who are suicidal are pathetic okay, okay. For kagehina week promt 1  
> miracle - noun. one that excites admiring awe; a wonderful or amazing event, act, person, or thing.

Sometimes Hinata Shouyou wishes he was dead.

He knows he shouldn’t feel this way. He knows they’re people out there who have it much worse. He knows that this is just a phase, a mid-life crisis of sorts, in a couple of days he’ll be as good as new. Even better really, a whole new person. He’s just being moody, a stick in the mud. 

What does he even have to be sad about? He has everything he could possibly want. A pretty girlfriend, top critics buying his art, being showcased in galleries around the world, a lavish apartment, the best food and clothes and jewels money could buy. He’s twenty and he’s on top of the world.

Hinata Shouyou is twenty and he’s very very sad.

It’s been two days. Two whole fucking days of him just sitting here, or standing or crouching or doing anything really other than what he’s supposed to do, what he gets paid to do.An empty canvas is set up in front of him and cans full of paints and brushes and charcoal are scattered around the room, a cup of ramen sits on the table, still full of noodles and broth that seems to be producing mold. He’s a mess. A goddamn idiotic, insignificant, dirty mess. 

He picks up his paint brush for the hundredth time and tries, really tries, to come up with something, anything. He just wants to get this stupid piece done, but his hands won’t move and his mind won’t come up with shapes or colors or emotions. Hinata can’t feel anything. He hasn’t felt anything for a while now.

He stands up, abruptly, with so much force that he knocks his paint water over and he doesn’t even care. He doesn’t care that his carpet is white, that he forgot to put down newspaper, that the god damn stain probably won’t come out. He’s had it. He can’t stay in this nasty room, with these nasty yellow walls Yachi chose to paint and the mocking blank canvas. He’s out the door in three quick strides, doesn’t even bother to put his coat on, doesn’t bother to lock the door. 

It's cold outside and the frigid air bites at his face, seeps into his bones. It’s a good pain. Any pain is a good pain. As long as he feels something, as long as it reminds him that he’s still alive, still breathing, still here. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but it doesn’t matter as long as he can clear his head and take a breather. Maybe he’ll find inspirations in the streets of New York.

Lies.

Lies, lies, lies. 

He knows he won’t find anything. He’s been looking for weeks and he hasn’t found anything and he’s about ready to cut his damn hands off because what use are they to him if they can’t paint. What use is he if he can’t paint. He’s nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Hinata finds himself in a park. It’s empty, except for a few stray joggers here and there and without thinking his feet turn towards the large bridge tucked into a far corner, shrouded by trees and winter shadows. He comes here often, ever since Yachi had to leave for her studies and he was left alone in a strange place with a strange language and mean, angry people. It’s not like it was the first time he was left alone, he’s not a baby, but it’s different now. He’s different.

He likes coming here though, it takes his mind off painting and the galleries and the endless critics. On some days, like today, his fingers clamp around the railing and he leans his head way too far over the edge and he imagines what would it feel like to just let go and fall, fall, fall. Because lately it’s been too much. It’s all been too much and he keeps thinking like this and he knows he should be happy, but he’s sad and he’s lonely and he’s mad and he just want to punch the world, punch himself. Hurt himself. 

He’s been feeling like this far too often, for far too long and it’s not normal, maybe he should go see a doctor, but he doesn’t really need a doctor he’s okay. He’s okay. Letting go from this height probably wouldn’t even kill him, he’d just end up broken, useless. But maybe he’d be able to sleep, just sleep. Then he’d wake up and everything would be fine, if only he could just let go.

“Hey!”

Hinata blinks. _Oh god,_ he thinks, _oh god, oh god oh god._ He peels his fingers from the railing and takes a step back, then another and another and another until his back hits a tree trunk and he can’t see what’s under the bridge, can’t see his broken corpse at the bottom. His breath is coming in fast pants and his vision is blurring, fingers shaking. He thinks he may be hearing footsteps quickly coming his way, but he’s not sure. He’s not sure of anything other than the fact that he almost let himself go. 

“Hey!” Someone says, screams.

There're hands shaking Hinata’s shoulders and a face mere inches away from his and he thinks he may be having a heart attack because the muscle in his chest doesn’t seem to be pumping anymore. But then there’s a claw clamping onto his head and pulling at his hair and then a hard slap on his cheek and he blinks again. 

“Hey, you, boy, look at me. Dumbass look at me, right here, at my eyes.”

Blue. 

Hinata’s world is bathed in blue and black and a little wrinkle between two beautiful eyes and just like that he can breathe again. His hand twitches.

“Are you okay?” The boy asks

“Huh?” he can’t think, he’s distracted by the feeling in his hand, surging from his chest. He hasn’t felt like this in so long, ever since he first saw Yachi in high school outside his clubroom. Ever since he painted her for the first time and touched his lips to her’s.

“Dude, do you need to go to the hospital? Do you need help?” The boy takes a step back, scowling.

“Um oh, no!” Hinata shouts. “I’m just, uh, not feeling too good, haha.” His voice drifts off into an awkward chuckle and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck.

He feels weird. He can’t take his eyes off the boy. He’s beautiful. Almost angelic with his ebony hair and royal eyes and long, slender build. The gears in Hinata’s head start to turn and he has to go, go right now into his ugly yellow room and paint this perfect, perfect human being.

“Hey!” The boy snaps his fingers at Hinata’s face.

“Huh?” He jumps, he didn’t realize the boy was still talking.

“Are you sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah yeah, i’m just… distracted.”

“Do always talk about jumping of a bridge when you’re distracted?” The boy growls out, eyes on fire.

Hinata jerks back. “Excuse me?”

His heart starts to pound in his chest, blood running cold. He wasn’t talking out loud was he? No, no, he doesn’t talk out loud, not that he’s aware of. He stares off into space sure and sometimes cracks his knuckles so much his mom says he’ll get arthritis, but he doesn’t speak his thoughts. And yet here’s this stranger telling him that he does and that he was talking about…about…that.

“Just so you know I had a friend once who did jump and it was literally the shitiest thing he could do. He was a coward and he left everyone behind, so don’t you even think about doing that because whatever it is that you’re going through can be fixed. Killing yourself can’t.”

Hinata’s eyes widen and his jaw drops and hands turn into tight fists against his sides. He’s suddenly very, very angry. Angry at this boy for yelling at him and telling him what to do and stating the obvious fact that he can’t kill himself. Obviously he can’t kill himself, he doesn’t even want to be dead in the first place. It was just a bad day, a bad week, a bad life.

Hinata glares and turns on his heels back towards his home. He has to go back to his stupid apartment and lay on the stupid floor until he thinks up something other than blue and black. Maybe he’ll call Yachi, hell maybe he’ll watch some American tv. Anything to forget the stupid boy. But then there’s a hand around his arm and an exhale of warm breath around his ears.

“Wait! Just, ugh”

“Let me go!” Hinata shouts.

The boy tightens his hold and drags Hinata back to face him. When he speaks it sounds almost desperate. “Get some coffee with me!”

Hinata raises his eyebrows “What?”

“Look I work right there at that Starbucks, it’s not that far just let me treat you to coffee.”

Hinata can feel himself starts to shake, his fingernails dig themselves so far into his palms that he’s sure he’s drawing blood.

“First you insult me! You call me suicidal, as if I would ever do that. As if I could be that pathetic. Now you want me to get coffee with you?”

“Not yet” The boy mumbles under his breath.

“What!” Hinata kicks at the boy, trying to rip his arm away, but he’s weak and this stupid idiot is much bigger than him and why did he have to be born like this. So small and weak and useless.

“I’m sorry, okay! Just please don’t…don’t leave.” The boy turns his face away, a blush tinting his cheeks. When he turns towards Hinata again his gaze is filled with a new kind of fire, not angry but determined and he widens his eyes and pushes his lips out into a slight pout, parting them and, “Please.”

It’s the please that breaks him. But it’s also because he’s always been weak and he’s always loved beautiful people and he can’t help but nod his head and lets the boy lead him to the coffee shop. He’d let him lead him straight into hell if he wanted to.

So Hinata stays and he sits with the boy and sips coffee that if he were truly honest was a bit too bitter and bit too hot, but he drank it anyway and he talks and he stares. And something clicks.

When he gets home that night his hand automatically reaches for the paint brush, splashing colors onto a canvas without any real order or purpose. His hand creates a dance, it’s beautiful and refreshing and for the first time in two years he feels alive. He goes backs to the shop the next day. And the next, and the next and soon enough it’s been a month and he thinks that maybe the boy, Kageyama Tobio, might just be a drug. His own personal ecstasy.

But he doesn’t want to think this, he doesn’t want to stare and he doesn’t want the stupid butterflies in his stomach or the heat that spreads from his finger to his chest whenever their hands touch. He doesn’t want any of it. It seems he dug himself into an even bigger hole, a deeper grave. He feels like he’s cheating on Yachi, but he hasn’t truly loved Yachi for months now and maybe that’s why he feels like shit, like the scum of the earth.

“Hey! Hinata, are you even listening?”

“Huh?” Hinata lifts his he head up and instinctively curls his finger around the hand Kageyama has placed on his to get his attention. Kageyama’s cheeks turn pink and so would Hinata’s but he feels too guilty to even let himself have the pleasure of feeling Kageyama’s warm hand in his. He lets go quickly and flashes the boy a smile. Kageyama, as always, scowls. 

“Dumbass you’re not even listening to me. Im breaking the work rules for you and you’re ignoring me, asshole.”

Hinata laughs and it’s a weird sound, he hasn’t laughed in so long it still feels foreign when Kageyama manages to pull one out from him. Without thinking he leans over the booth’s table and knock his forehead against the boy’s, pinching his cheeks at the same time.

“Awww, are you lonely Kageyama? Do you want my attention?” He teases.

Kageyama scowls and slaps his hand away, his face quickly turning red. Hinata’s heart jumps and he pulls back before he melts and does something he knows he’ll regret.

“Anyways how’s your art assignment going? Can i see it?”

Kageyama’s an art student and it took Hinata a while to convince him that he was _the_ Hinata Shouyou, the artist from Japan that managed to became a success practically over night, but after he showed him his paintings and took him to exclusive galleries he relented and became quite clingy. Turns out Kageyama was a huge fan and sometimes when he was alone and the shadows seemed to swallow him whole Hinata starts to thinks that maybe this beautiful, angry boy only likes him because he’s famous, because he’s rich and has connections and could easily make Kageyama a huge success as well. He know it’s not true though. He sees it in Kageyama’s eyes and the way he sometimes seems to stand a bit too close, lingers a bit too long. Obviously he doesn’t like him as anything more than a friend, but it’s still nice to feel him so near, even if nothing more will come of it.

Kageyama clicks his tongue and turns away, huffing. “That’s what I was talking about. They chose me for the winter art exhibit, it’s in two days. You can come if want.” 

Hinata claps his hands and jumps over to Kageyama’s side of the booth, wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist. “That’s great Tobio! Finally you get picked I was starting to think your teacher hated you.”

Kageyama shouts and pushes Hinata away and as always they're too loud and Kageyama’s boss, a sweet silver haired man comes and takes Kageyama back to the kitchen. Just like every day. Hinata walks back to his apartment, the smile slipping from his face, he doesn’t want to go back. He knows the only thing that waits for him there is a wide empty room, a blank canvas, dishes that are stacked and haven’t been cleaned in weeks. Alone is too dangerous, blank is too dangerous. 

If something is blank then he starts to hate himself and he starts to think of the bridge and he hasn’t thought of the bridge as much lately but he ’s thinking of it a lot now. Thinking about Yachi, and blue and how much of a disgusting piece of-

Stop.

He has stop.

He’s two days away from his due date, two days away from Kageyama’s exhibit, maybe two days away from finally just slipping away when Yachi calls. It’s unexpected, Yachi hasn’t called him in weeks, not since he started talking about a boy he met at the park and about how his last piece was a huge success titled _King of the Court._ He answers with a shaking voice, but it’s just the same old Yachi, updating him on college life and parties and everything he’s missing. He’ll be back home in two months, but sometimes it feels like he’ll never be back, like he’ll never fit back in. He’s the broken piece in the puzzle. 

Two days come in a mere blink of the eye. He has to ask for an extension on his piece, but he still goes to Kageyama’s first exhibit, all suited up and crisp and clean. No one would even guess what he’s just done in his bathroom, the paintings he’d just carved into his own skin and he feels stupid and pathetic, but for Kageyama he could feel like utter shit and he would still go out to meet him. The night goes well, critics come up and congratulate Kageyama and congratulate him and feels like he’s going to cry because Kageyama painted him. Hinata in all his patheticness and uselessness and all around mess that he is

And the painting is so beautiful, so bright and happy, what he used to be. What he wishes he could be. Orange and yellow and red, a sunset. It almost makes him forget. Hinata hugs Kageyama, right there, with everyone watching, tears streaming down his face. The room fades to the background, the people, the noises, everything, it's just the two of them and the sound of Hinata’s heart thumping in his chest. 

He pulls back with a shaky smile and stares at Kageyama and maybe their faces are getting closer or maybe his vision is just getting darker, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t care. He’s so sad. And then their little bubble breaks and reality comes crashing down around them.

“Hinata!”

It’s Yachi, Yachi shouting and eyes widening and fingers shaking, mirroring exactly what Hinata’s doing. He jumps back, his breath catching in his throat. Kageyama’s looking between them, confused, and then recognition lights up face. Yachi’s always in Hinata’s interviews, always by his side, everyone knows who she is, but people have started to talk. They haven’t seen each other in too long, they must be on a break, they’re not together anymore. Technically they still are, technically Hinata doesn’t want them to be.

Yachi turns around and runs out the door, and Hinata, shooting a quick longing glance at Kageyama, runs after her because he might not love her as his girlfriend anymore but he still loves her as his friend. As the first girl, the first person, he ever truly loved. 

“Yachi! Yachi wait!” He shouts after her. 

He grabs her hand and she turns around, the light catching on the small tears on her cheeks.

“Yachi, what are you doing here?”

The corners of her lips turn up, just slightly, sadly. “I wanted to surprise you… I guess I should have called ahead first.”

“No!, Yachi i’m sorry. That wasn’t, I wasn’t-“

“Im sorry I have to go.” She interrupts and pulls her hand free.

He’s not fast enough

When he goes home he can’t see anything other than red. He shouts and screams and kicks everything, grabs his painting and smashes them on the coffee table, grabs empty glasses and throws them against the wall. Without thinking he grabs a piece of glass and holds it highly in his hand, he doesn’t even care if it hurts him beyond repair, doesn’t care if he won’t be able to paint again. He wishes he could just cut his hands off, cut his heart out. Let go.

There’s a knock on the door.

It’s Kageyama and his eyes widen as they see his bloody hand. He moves to grab at it, but Hinata steps back. He’s not mad. He’s disgusted with himself, what he did, Yachi didn’t deserve that. Kageyama doesn’t deserve him. He’s nothing.

“What do you want.” He asks, voice devoid of any emotion. The blood drips to the floor.

“Hinata you need to let that go. Just calm down. Please don’t-“

“You need to leave.”

Kageyama freezes, and for a split second Hinata sees the same desperate face he first saw a month ago. “What?”

“You need to leave. Now. Don’t ever come back. Don’t talk to me. I don’t know you.”

Tears prickle Hinata eyes, but he refuses to let them go. It’s the best thing for him, he thinks. It’s the only way. He’ll only drag him down, only hurt him. Just like he always does. Because he’s a fuck up, a fake, a piece of trash on some long forgotten road. It’s time for him to go.

“Hinata-“

He closes the door on Kageyama’s face. The next day the neighbors will complain about someone screaming, about the pounding they heard on the walls and the sounds of someone shattering glass upstairs. Hinata doesn’t open the door for them. He doesn’t get up for two days.There’s blood running down both his arms and his hand and on a cut he made on his head from hitting it too hard.

He feels dizzy. And he thinks that maybe he can see a small light at the edge of his bedroom, maybe he can hears voices whispering to him, calling to him. The phone rings on the third day. He’s too weak to answer. It’s Yachi and she leaves a message.

“Hey Hinata, look I’m sorry. I tried going to your apartment earlier, but they said you haven’t been there for a while. Anyways I wanted to say that I think I overreacted. We both knew we weren’t working out and this was going to happen eventually so I’m sorry. I’m glad you're happy, you need to be happy. I saw the way you looked at that boy and how the boy looked at you. You’re so in love please don’t let him go. You deserve someone who will love you and love your art and it just wasn’t me. But don’t worry I’m okay I met someone. She’s beautiful. I hope you get to see her soon. I love you.”

The machine clicks and Hinata smiles, it’s weak and small and nothing compared to the ones he remembered he could give. At least Yachi is okay, she’ll be okay, Kageyama will be okay. He’ll be okay too.

Hinata stands up, his legs shake and he feels like he might not be able to make it to the bridge. But he has too. It’s night and the frigid winter air bites at his skin, seeps into his trembling bone. It’s a good pain. It’s all a good pain.

It feels like forever before he reaches what he thought was his safe place, he’d never guessed it would become his grave. But it’s a fitting end for him. He always wanted to know what it felt like to fly. His fingers clamp around the railing and he leans his head way too far over the edge and he imagines what would it feel like to just let go and fall, fall, fall.

He takes a deep breath.

He lets go.

But he doesn’t fall. Not in the way that he wanted too. There’s arms around his waist, pulling him from the edge and he’s too weak to do anything about it. He knows who it is. They smell like coffee and whipped cream, and Hinata is warm again despite the snow falling around them.

Two hands hold his face and something wet falls onto his forehead.

“Oh god.” He hears. “Oh god, oh god, oh god. What the fuck Hinata. Hinata please, wake up. Please.”

He’s too weak to open his eyes, too weak to keep his heart beating or his lungs moving or his blood pumping. Too weak to live.

“Pleases don’t leave.”

Hinata falls asleep.

He floats in and out of consciences. Sometime he can hear voices, sometime crying, one time he even hears camera shutters and people shouting. Everything hurts. He doesn’t want to get up, but there’s a small boy with dark hair and sad, sad eyes sitting by his bed. He’s crying and it tugs at Hinata’s heart and he remembers what Yachi told him, _don’t let him go._

But he doesn’t deserve him.

Hinata is nothing.

“You shithead you better fucking wake up or I’ll follow you into the after life and kill you.”

Something starts beeping, fast and erratic and then suddenly it stops. Just one endless beep. Hinata goes back to sleep.

It’s been two days, two whole days of him just floating in some weird heavy water. On some days it pulls him down farther than he would like and on other days he swears he can see light breaking through the dark waves and then one day he sees a little fish swimming through the murkiness. Hinata follows the fish.

Hinata opens his eyes.

He groans at the blinding light. A head pops up at the sound of him waking up and suddenly there’s hand pinching his cheeks and slapping his face. A boy digs his face into his chest. He’s crying. Big painful sobs, it makes Hinata’s chest ache.

“Dumbass.” Kageyama says. “Why’d you have to go and do that to me.”

“I’m not worth it.” He says simply, staring the white ceiling, he can’t look at him.

“Jesus you idiot. You’re perfect, you’re so perfect and beautiful and everyone loves you. They love your painting. Whose going to paint a boy like me if you’re gone. Who am I going to paint if you’re gone.”

Hinata shakes head, his hand twitches. Kageyama lifts his head up and cups his chin forcing him to look into his eyes. Hinata flinches, he never wants to see those eyes look like that again.

“Listen to me okay. You are everything. You cannot leave. You have to live and if it’s not for yourself then for me, for your fans, for your future. You can’t leave me alone again” 

Kageyama’s cheeks turn red and his eyes start to cloud ever with more tears but he keeps his hold on Hinata’s chin and Hinata feels like he’s about to burst. He feels it again, the tingle in his fingers , the fluttering in his stomach and it’s okay this time. he’s not hurting anyone, other than himself and maybe the angry boy in front of him. So he takes a deep breath, looks straight at Kageyama and says the words he’s been dying to say since the moment he met him. 

“I think I love you Kageyama Tobio.”

His heart stops and his breath stops and everything freezes and he feels like he’s about to die again. The silence will eat him whole.

And then. “I know I love you, dumbass.”

He feels like the sun has come out for the first time in two very long years and Kageyama has to lift his head up because Hinata is crying so hard that snot’s filling his nose and he can’t breath. But he’s happy. He’s happy and he’s smiling and he’s alive.

He is alive.

 

**************************************

 

Sometimes Hinata Shouyou wishes he was dead.

He knows he shouldn’t feel this way. He knows they’re people out there who have it much worse. He knows that this is just a phase, a mid-life crisis of sorts, in a couple of days he’ll be as good as new. Even better really, a whole new person. He’s just being moody, a stick in the mud. 

But when he does feel like this, and he doesn’t want to get out of bed or even face the world, he turns towards the boy in his bed. To the beautiful, blue eyed asshole that stole his heart and he thinks, _yeah I could live for this._

_I could live for this miracle._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this is pretty bad but it's okay cause I wrote it in like a day, so forgive me. I think I might end up rewriting this but for now it'll stay. Hope ya'll enjoyed it


End file.
